Mrs. Ivy bent over him in instant solicitude.
“I do believe it is swollen, darling; just here. Look, Mr. Decker, doesn't it seem a trifle fuller than the other side?”
Cropsie Decker's eye, not being trained by years of maternal solicitude, failed to distinguish any difference.
“No matter,” said Gerald gloomily; “if it isn't then it's something else. What's the news, Decker?”
“The only news for me is this idiotic talk that has been allowed to go the rounds about Don Morley. That is what I came to see you about. What does Dillingham have to say about it?”
“Oh, you know Dill; he side-steps. The whole thing has blown over here months ago; the subject is as extinct as the dodo.”
“Well, it won't be extinct long! I've cabled Don to come home, and I bet he'll stir things up. There's nothing to hold him now that Margery Sequin's broken her engagement.”
“So sad!” murmured Mrs. Ivy. “I hope young Mr. Dillingham won't do anything desperate. To think of his cup of happiness being dashed from his lips—”
The two young men looked at each other and laughed.
“Don't worry about Dill, Mater. He has more than one cup to fall back on. It is old man Sequin that may do something desperate. I hear they have made no end of a row, but Margery holds her own.”